Welcome to Gaia! ::

((Edit in, small prenote. I mentioned that the Pirate's Cove was in the western territory. That's because it says it's by the "ocean/sea/whatever". That would mean that there's an ocean in the middle of the land, so I assumed that was an oversight. o 3o

Well, I guess it could be a part of the broad southwestern area? I don't know. Or we have a big water-mass in the middle of the continent, but that confuses my mind because it would require me to remap my understanding of the world. <_>))

It had been a week since their last mission. A full week of activities, eating out and enjoying the town. Well, for all but one. In spite of the continued efforts to cheer Lyn up, it was very rarely that they could get her to leave the team room for anything but food. Her inability to use the Dawn Stone had left her listless and apathetic to the world. It wasn't that she showed zero interest constantly, it was more that she very rare had the desire to do anything or the will to follow the suggestions of others.

All four sat in the team room. The oppressive heat had driven Lyn to doze off and Chelsea lay against against the wall with her bag propped up behind her as a pillow. Her mouth opened to a great yawn signalling that she, too, was quite tired. Urist, however, was quite awake. As was Dennis... probably. His face rarely showed how he felt. The two observed the rest of the team with boredom. There was a complete silence within the room itself. Lyn's deep, slow breathing was the only sound that could be heard.

So, Urist gave the Shroomish beside him a poke. “Hey, go get a mission.” Dennis turned to look at the Mankey. He was tempted to say “go do it yourself”, but they both knew that if Urist got within ten feet of that building the Farfetch'd would be on him in an instant.

“Alright. I'll be right back.”

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Dennis walked into the busy hall and up to the bulletin board. It was stacked high with sheets of paper, each one detailing a request. Everything from “fight for me!” and “fight me!” to “find my pet rock!” was plastered all over the board in neat columns and rows. It was comprehensive and very obviously maintained by a meticulous hand. The organization of the board had a subtle intent that was quite clear with examination; the missions were arranged to keep the dangerous ones out of the hands of children. Dennis looked up at the board, being only able to catch the missions that trailed along the very bottom. Most of them weren't very helpful. Plenty of missions asking for benign or dangerous things, but none of which would appeal to the team. The goal of the mission was to appeal to the team, after all. To do something to break Lyn of her depression.

He spotted one, just a ways up. It would be good. It wasn't exactly Lyn's territory, but she would probably enjoy it... Urist would definitely enjoy it. “Hey.” Dennis called over to the Farfetch'd. “Mind helping me out here?”

The bird waddled over and looked down at him. Dennis looked up at the mission he sought (and was unable to reach), prompting the Farfetch'd to grab it and bring it down to him. “This one?” Requesting an escort. I intend to go into the Pirate's Cove on a treasure hunt; payment provided on completion. I'll be camping on the shore, prospective guards please meet me there.

Dennis gave a nod. “Alright then. Here you go, kid.” The Farfetch'd placed the sheet on the floor in front of him. Dennis looked down at it and then up at the board keeper in turn.

“I can't carry this. I don't have arms.” The organizer smacked himself in the face with his wing. Kids were frustrating, they really were. He picked the sheet back up and placed it carefully on top of the Shroomish's head. Although it seemed perfectly balanced, it quickly slipped off. The Farfetch'd left with a mutter and returned with a roll of what appeared to be clear plastic tape. He picked the mission back up, stuck it firmly to Dennis's head and then taped it there.

“There.”

Dennis could no longer see. The paper came down over his face and covered his eyes with ease. Regardless, he had the mission in “hand” so to speak, so he could take it back. “Thank you.”

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Urist opened the door to find a piece of paper with feet on the other side. The piece of paper suddenly fluttered upwards as it's host blew it out of his face. “I got us a mission. Urist tore the sheet of paper off of the Shroomish and began to read it over.

“Heyy, hey. We've got a mission to do.” Urist turned to his sleeping comrades and clapped his hands firmly and loudly. Chelsea awoke instantly with a stifled yawn and a stretch of her arms. Lyn sat up from her sleep and stared at Urist with a dazed looked in her eyes. “Come on, we've got a mission to do.”

Lyn raised one hand to her mouth and yawned. “Oh... Alright then.”

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The journey wasn't a long one. The guild was already quite close to the western territory in which the Pirate's Cove resided. Although they had to travel all the way to the edge of the land itself, caravans of pokemon going to and fro were not uncommon. The Starburst Islands were a popular enough vacation spot and there was a small shipping industry around the beach. The cove itself was off the beaten path, but it wasn't so long that they couldn't walk it. The Pirate's Cove seemed to almost cut into the mountains far along the northern stretch of the beach.

It didn't take them long to find the client, either. He was quite literally where he said he was; sitting on the beach all of thirty feet away from the entrance. He was lying on the sand lazily with a small brown belt beside him. Each pouch was packed to the brim, with a loose flap only offering a slight glance at the metal objects inside. Each one seemed refined for a single purpose, although it was hard to tell without a proper look at them.

“Hello?” Lyn walked over to the Squirtle to address him. She was fully awake now in spite of having fallen asleep during the ride to the beach; the thirty minute walk had given her more than enough time to rouse her body from it's slumber. The Squirtle's eyes shot open and he was on his feet in an instant in order to better examine whoever would intrude upon his rest. His posture eased considerably when he recognized an explorer's badge on each one of them.

“So you're the rescue team?” Lyn nodded. The Squirtle looked over the party again. “Not much, are you?” He grabbed the belt off the ground and roughly slung it around his waist before it came together with a well-ironed click. “Though...” He looked specifically at Gwendolyn and Dennis. “If you two are any good, you should be enough. As for the other two... there's strength in numbers, I guess.” He roughly shoved one of his hands forward with a grin on his face; he didn't seem to think he was being insulting. “The name's Steven.”

Lyn met his hand with her own and was quickly subjected to a very violent handshake. “My... My name is Gwendolyn. He's Urist, he's Dennis and that's Chelsea.” She signalled to her three teammates in turn.

Steven gave a quick nod. “Alright, then. Hold on.” He reached into one of his pouches and pulled out a rolled piece of paper. No... it was too old for that. This looked more like parchment, or maybe something else. It definitely wasn't anything modern; the sheet was crinkled and covered with small nicks and tears. The once-white colour had faded to a dull brown. It was a fancifully drawn map, to say the least; there was no way it was accurate in terms of distance. “This is why I'm here.” He spread the map out on the ground to let everyone see. He pointed out a specific place on the map about half-way through. “This is where Rogers hid his ship. I scoped out the area once. It's not where he hid his treasure, but there might still be some on the ship. It's still plenty dangerous, but if we tried to go into the depths of the caves, we'd be killed for sure. We'll be fine here as long as we're careful.”

Lyn nodded. It seemed like an easy enough mission... Just go in, find the ship, get out. They weren't going anywhere near the very depths of the cove, so it didn't seem like it would be very dangerous.

Steven smiled. “Alright then. Let's get going.” He grabbed the map and folded it back up carefully before returning it to his pocket. He walked into the cove with the party following behind in short order.

Urist began muttering under his breath. “I don't like him.”

Dennis looked at his companion who walked beside him. It was pretty obvious why Urist didn't like the Squirtle; the Treasure Hunter had called him “worthless” in a very roundabout way. Of course, from his demeanour it was obvious that he meant it more as an honest comment than an insult, but Urist was not exactly a calm fellow. “It's a mission, he's the client. It happens.” The Mankey merely gave a low, aggressive growl in response.

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They had been wandering around the cove for some time through the dimly-lit corridors of the Pirate's Cove. There hadn't been an opposition yet, although they had seen a few wild pokemon. Most had let them pass without regard and only a few even growled at them as a warning to “keep your distance”. It wasn't long before they ran into an iron gate. The bars were too small for even the tiniest of pokemon to get through and a cast-iron door complete with a lock stood in the middle.

Steven pulled something from his pouch and set to work quickly. The small, bent metal rod came between two of his fingers. His middle finger was braced behind it, allowing him to push it in with ease. With one side of his head to the door, he set to work. The slight rattling of metal again metal filled the area. “Um... What are you doing?”

Steven's hand kept moving as he spoke. “I'm trying to pick the lock. I didn't have to last time because I took a few shortcuts, but... I don't fancy any of you for swimmers.” Dennis had no arms, Lyn barely had limbs and Chelsea was weighed down by a heavy bag. Somehow, Urist was likely the most elegant swimmer in the team.

“Oh.” He was trying to... pick the lock? What was that? What did it even mean? She knew what locks were, of course; she had encountered them in her time in the city. But, what did “picking” the lock mean..?

She didn't have the time to consider it. A screech sounded from the ceiling and darted straight for the door. Steven, so locked in his concentration, did not notice until it was too late. The Zubat smashed straight into him, knocking him over. A loud snap sounded, though none could hear it over the impending struggle.

The Squirtle shoved his right hand forward at the Zubat, who instantly screeched in pain. A jet of water shot from the Squirtle's mouth, blasting the Zubat off of him. It stumbled backwards and began flailing it's wings in an attempt to stand. “Powder Snow! Powder Snow!”

“R... Right!” Lyn took a deep breath in and shot out the jet of snow. It covered the Zubat in snow and ice. It began to flail more and more slowly as the heat from it's body was stolen by the icy blast. It finally lay motionless. A small, thin metal rod could be seen sticking out of it's chest. Steven promptly pulled it out.

“Damn...” He examined it in his fingers before returning to the lock. A small piece of thin metal stuck out, much like the one he held in his hands. “Dammit.” His eyes darted around the room as if searching for something. They finally rested on Chelsea. “Hey, kid. Chelsea, right? Would you loan me that bag for a second?” Chelsea tightened her hold on the bag in response. “Come on, I'll give it back right away. I just need to use it for a second.”

Chelsea nodded and took the bag off her shoulder, presenting it to Steven with both hands. “Okay, but be careful with it. Momma gave me that bag.”

Steven nodded. “Of course. Now, you four are going to want to get back.” The statement was met with confused stares. “Back, back. You'll want to be back a ways or you're in danger.” The party collectively shrugged and backed off about four meters before Steven turned back to the lock. “I really hate doing this...” He placed the bag down in front of himself before placing his mouth just in front of the lock. A small bubble on the edge of his lips and was promptly pushed just inside of the lock. The rest filtered in behind it and Steven promptly picked up the bag and held it in front of his face.

The normally subtle pop of the bubble was accentuated by a small bang instead. The entire door shook within it's frame and swung open slightly. Steven turned the bag around and looked at it before reaching in and pulling out an apple. “Lucky~” He turned around to show it to the party; the apple had a small, thin piece of metal sticking out of it. “That would've really hurt if it hit me.” He pulled the shattered half of the pick out of the apple and took a bite out of it before pushing the door open. “Come on, let's go.”

Chelsea, however, had sat down. The normally happy smile that marked her face had curled into a frown. The rest of the party looked back at her in confusion as she began to sob. “My... My bag! You broke it!” She pointed straight at Steven who examined the bag to alleviate his own confusion.

There was a small hole where the broken half of the pick had pierced the bag and stuck into the apple. It was no larger than the head of a tack and was barely distinguishable unless you stretched the fabric. “Oh, yeah... I guess I did.” He stretched the fabric lightly with his fingers. Even stretched, it wasn't nearly large enough to make the bag dysfunctional. The bag was “broken” in the same way that a paper cut was “fatal”. “It's not like it's torn in half or anything. It's perfectly fine, don't worry about it.” It wasn't a big deal, really. Just a small hole. At worst, there would be a little bit of stitching.

Chelsea, however, did not quite agree with the Squirtle's analysis. “M... My bag... It's broken!” Her choked back sobs turned into full blown hysterics as she began to cry. The rest of the group gave Steven contemptuous looks. After all, he had made a young girl cry!

His gaze darted from one team member to another. The Mankey and the Shroomish were obviously angry. The Snorunt wasn't angry, she just looked... disappointed. “Ah, geeze! I get it, alright. I'll buy you a new one when we get back to the city, okay? I'll even make sure it's a really nice one; if we get the treasure, I should have more than enough money.”

This did little to stem the Teddiursa's crying. “My... My momma gave me that bag! It's special!”

Oh geeze. Steven thought to himself. It's something from her mother, isn't it? He sighed and rubbed his temples slightly. “Alright, I'll fix it when we get back to the city then. You saw what I was doing with the lock, right? I'm really good with my hands. I'm sure if you give me a needle and some thread I can have it fixed up in no time!” He put on his most earnest smile in an attempt to pacify the small child. It seemed to be working when she quieted down and gave a nod. “Alright then, let's get going. We have a ship to get to, right?”

With a nod and a smile the Teddiursa stood up once more and took the bag back from Steven. Slinging it over her shoulder, she walked along side the rest of the group.

Eventually the “walk” became more like a boring trot. Steven stopped to consult his map every few minutes, with the occasional backtracking happening accordingly. The pokemon here, for the most part, seemed to be avoiding them. It wasn't that they never saw any, but that they simply never had to fight any. The water-types that made up the majority of the cave weren't carnivorous or territorial; they just didn't care.

So, of course, they started talking. What else was there to do? “S.. So, Steven?” The Squirtle looked up from his map. “Um... I was wondering... Why is it that you're looking for the treasure here anyways?” It was clearly dangerous in here for one reason or another, so it was something of a mystery to her as to why anyone would want to go in here for a treasure chest.

He looked up into the air as he walked, his mind busily lost in thought. He finally looked back at her as he replied. “Money, I think.” He shook his head almost immediately. “No, it's money for sure.” When met with the quizzical stare of the Snorunt, he quickly elaborated. “Money's something really important. If you have enough money, you can live in a nice mansion. You can eat plenty of food. You can buy anything you want, whether or not you need it and whether or not it's worth the price. If you have money, you can live an easy life.” He crossed his arms and nodded resolutely.

She merely nodded. It made sense, after all. Money let you do a lot of things and the more you had the more things you could do. Everyone wanted something from life and for some people that thing was money.

It wasn't much more walking until they finally reached another gate. This time, the team was cautious. Steven faced upwards and shot out a jet of water into the darkness above. The musty lanterns that hung around the dungeon were far from significant enough to reach so far up. The Squirtle's blast was meant with a harsh squeak as a waterlogged Zubat fell to the ground, unable to fly. The water made him far too heavy to fly, leaving the Zubat to crawl off in an attempt to flee. “Hmph. Serves them right, always trying to ambush people.”

Steven set to work. Another pick came out of his pouch which was promptly sealed shut as the button snapped into place. His ear went to the door as the pick went inside the lock. His fingers moved deftly to jiggle the pick into place until he felt it snap into the lock. With a smile across his face, he turned and watched with satisfaction as the door opened to the lightest of presses.

The party was equally impressed. It was one thing to break down a door; just about anyone could do that. It was another thing entirely to be able to open a completely locked door without any special powers to help you. “Wow, Mister Steven! That's really cool! Where did you learn to do that?”

Steven stroked his chin thoughtfully, his eyes glistening with pride. “I practised! After I tried doing it a lot, I managed to figure it out. Now I can unlock doors with nothing but one of these.” He patted one of the pouch's that hung off of his belt with pride. The small metal picks within jingled against one another as they were suddenly rattled about inside.

“So you can open locked doors with just those?”

Steven nodded as he handled the pick with one hand. “Yeah. If it's locked, I can open it with one of these.” He held the pick between his three fingers and waved it back and forth. It was nothing more than a crimped piece of metal, but in the hands of a skilled individual it was more than enough to bypass the sturdiest of locks.

They pushed the door open and passed through it with ease. Steven took his map out and began to backpedal as he walked, his eyes carefully examining the turns and markings in the tunnels themselves. He suddenly shifted into a side tunnel out of the party's view and came to a stop in an instant. The rest of the party turned around to follow after him to find the Squirtle face-to-face with three Psyduck. They stood in the middle of the tunnel side by side, their combined width easily blocking the passageway. They massaged their heads in perfect tandem. “Hey, step aside. I need through.”

The comment elicited no response beyond the continued rubbing of their heads. Perhaps, it was even faster? “Hey, Psyducks. Get out of the way, I need through.” He tapped his foot impatiently against the stone as he spoke, causing a light rhythmic sound.

This time, the Psyduck trio gave an actual response. One of them began to call out it's own name. A second began, and finally the third continued shortly after. “Psy psy psy psy psy psy psy psy psy psy psy psy psy...” The three voices wove together yet remained distinct as each one spoke offbeat, with their voices growing increasingly loud. Steven grew nervous in the face of the constant chanting and stepped back.

The attack was fast and without warning. The three voices coalesced as the voice reached it's peak and the tunnel itself seemed to bend and warp. Air and light seemed to turn as if they were being swallowed by a vortex; up became down, forward became right and backwards stopped existing. The sound grew from annoying loud to a deafening roar that seemed to echo against the stone walls of the cove. “H... hey!”

Steven stood in the middle of the distortion, his hands clutching his head and his eyes shut tight. “Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!” Steven's voice rose above even those of the Psyduck's as a pained scream erupted from his throat. After only a few moments, his entire body retreated inside of his shell. The distortion quieted moments later as the Psyduck's ceased their chant.

“What the hell did you do!?” Dennis began shouting at the Psyduck's who merely stared vacantly at him. One looked down at the Squirtle and let out a surprised quack. Still, the three did not move. Dennis charged forward, his small feet carrying him into the Psyduck as he jumped at it, smacking into it's face. It promptly fell over without protest and simply stopped moving.

Urist, although still confused as to what the hell just happened was quick to follow. “Ukikiii!” He sprinted forward with his fingers balled into a fist. His blow landed true as he punched the Psyduck square between the eyes. This one also fell over without protest and stopped moving entirely.

Lyn, although filled with concern, did not charge forward. Watching what happened with the other two, she walked forward to the Psyduck slowly. It stared blankly at her as she walked up to it. Their eyes locked for a few moments once she came to a stop in front of it. Gwendolyn promptly blew a small bit of snow into the Psyduck's face, causing it to
let out a surprised quack and fall over.

Chelsea was the only one who was immediately concerned with the client's health. She gave his shell a slight poke. “Mister Steven, are you alright?” No response. She planted both hands against the side of his shell and pushed slightly, shaking the Squirtle's entire body. “Mister Steven? Are you in there?” Again, no response. She gave his shell another strong push while she called out loudly, “Mister Steveeennn?Are you in there?”

His head (and only his head) shot out of the shell to look up at her. “Yes, just... Please be quiet.” He spoke in a hushed tone. His hands came out shortly after for the sole purpose of rubbing his head. “Holy hell, that hurt.”

“Mister Steven, are you okay?” Chelsea looked at the beached Squirtle as he rubbed his head with concern.

He instantly snapped back at her. “Yes, I'm fine, just be quiet!” Seeing her downtrodden face, he followed up in an attempt to pacify her. “I've just got a really bad headache, okay? I need quiet for a little while.” Chelsea began to speak, but her hands quickly clamped over her mouth. She instead gave a silent nod. She opened her bag and took out the small jar of honey she always carried with her. After setting it down on a small blanket along with a few apples, she pushed one towards the Squirtle in a silent offering.

Steven took one apple and dipped it lightly in the honey before taking a bite out of it. His face quickly contorted in pain, the sound of the crunch ringing loudly inside of his head. The rest of the party sat down nearby and quietly munched on their own apples, choosing to respect his desire for silence. Even Urist was quiet. It was a few minutes before he took another bite and a full ten before he managed to finish the apple. He sat upright and rubbed his head lightly before standing again. “Thank you. That helped.”

Chelsea gave an ecstatic nod. “Yep!”

And, of course, the party continued. It wasn't long; the tunnel quickly led them into one of the more open areas of the cove. Although the cove was in truth largely comprised of these, this was the first one they had run into. The ceiling was easily ten meters high and the floor consisted of water and rocky paths interchangeably. A large pool of water sat in the middle near a wall that had long-since collapsed, sealing up the area. And, of course, hiding the ship within from the prying eyes of sailors.

Steven ran across the rocky ground as fast as he could, his feet stomping up the wooden plank that acted as a bridge for those who wished to board the pirate ship. The long-aged flag had dulled from a deep black to a dark gray that was covered in the wear and tear of age. The symbol that once stood there had long since faded away, although there were enough traces to recognize it if you knew what it was originally. The sails had been stripped off of it long ago, leaving only a bare mast in it's place.

The poor state of the ship didn't deter Steven in the least. “We found it!” He cried out loudly. “We found the ship! We found Rogers ship!” The party hurried their steps in response as the Squirtle disappeared from the side of the ship. By the time they arrived, he had already set to work. His head was pressed against the door and a pick was in his hand as he busily shifted it around the lock in an attempt to open it. The party watched with anticipation. Although none of them had been that excited with the idea of a treasure hunt to begin with (not even Urist, who thought “3000 PD is a boring reward”) the fact that it was literally in front of them raised the tension to it's maximum.

The lock shifted with a click that resounded through the minds of it's listeners. A smile split Steven's face in two as he let out triumphant laughter and pulled the door open so quickly it slammed against the wall. The room inside was the captain's quarters. A desk worn from age sat at the far side of the room. A treasure chest of a design that could only be called “stereotypical” sat just in front of it. It was made of what once must have been a rich, deep brown wood with a golden metal hammered around it.

Urist charged forward with Steven just behind him. He placed one hand on the top of the chset and one hand at the base and tried to wrench it open, only to find it locked. “Ukikikiiiiiiii! Open you stupid chest!” Using his foot for leverage, he gloriously failed at prying the lock open up until Steven shoved him away.

“Let me at it. I'll pick it open.” The pick quickly came out of the pouch and shot into the lock. It wasn't the Squirtle who found the solution, however.

“Um... Would that work?” Steven glanced back at her and then followed her balled hand to the top of the desk. Lifting himself up with a heave, he stood on top of the wooden container and looked on top of the desk. A plain brass key sat on top, square in the middle. “That's the key, right?”

Steven grabbed it off the desk and swung himself over the chest to slap it in. It turned seamlessly with a loud click. He grabbed the lid of the chest and pulled back, falling onto the ground behind it in the process of opening it. The act was followed by a quiet collective “Aw...” from the group.

He shifted around the chest to look inside, only to find his fears confirmed. The chest was empty. There wasn't a single coin or gem inside... not even a rotten piece of fruit. In fact, it was worse than empty; the chest itself was ruined. Something had long ago punched a large hole through the bottom of the chest. As it was, they couldn't even take the chest back and sell it as an antique. Heck, with how old it was it wasn't even usable as firewood. It was completely and utterly useless.

“Damn it!” Steven kicked the front of the chest which promptly caved in with a rotten crack. “Dammit, it's all gone!” He fell forward onto his hands by bracing his weight against the front of the chest. Already weakened by the hole in the front, the wood crumpled under his weight. He went crashing into the floor with a cry. “Dammit! The stash must have been TM discs!” Dragonair couldn't learn Ice Beam normally, after all.

Of course, the enemy quickly confirmed his suspicions. The Dragonair's head reeled back as a torrent of water erupted from it's maw. The Hydro Pump smashed into Urist, sending him reeling into the other side of the room. “Ukiki!?”

“Lyn! Attack it! It should be weak against ice!” The Squirtle began barking orders as he rushed to the back of the room to get Urist back on his feet. “Chelsea, come back here and help me! Dennis, try to knock the Dragonair off-balance!”

Dennis looked at the Dragonair. “Easier said than done...” he muttered lightly under his breath. Dragonair weren't exactly something you could “tackle”. They were serpentine! Lyn, however, responded to the plan much more quickly. “R... Right!” She ran forward to the Dragonair and shot a jet of snow at it from her mouth. The Dragonair reeled back in shock from the cold, biting pain and then replied in kind with another Ice Beam which didn't even phase the little ice-type.

Seeing the move as somewhat ineffective, the Dragonair changed tactics. It took one deep breath in before holding it's jaws open. Flame swelled inside, a message of death and fear for the Snorunt. Fire was the only thing her kind feared. Her eyes stayed glued to the form before her as she tripped backwards and fell. She could let out only a meagre, quiet plea.“H... Help...”

Both of her comrades responded. Urist shook off the two helping him up and charged forward. Dennis was already ahead of him, leaping up and smashing into the side of the Dragonair's head. The surprise forced the jet of flames out as the Dragonair fell over. Blazing fire covered the ceiling of the ship in an instant. The old, rotten wood began to burn easily. Urist leaped onto the fallen Dragonair. Two feet and one arm wrapped around it's upper body, choking it. The other began to pummel the beast until it was unconscious. Although it writhed and panicked, it couldn't shake the Mankey's grip.

Of course, that was secondary to the fire above them. The flames had covered the ceiling and were slowly crawling down the walls. The ice on the door was still solid... it wouldn't melt until the door itself was on fire. “Oh no! Miss Lyn, the ceiling's burning!” Lyn sat still, completely frozen.

Steven smashed his fist into the ice in a futile act of desperation. The ice would neither crack nor budge. “Dammit...” His eyes darted around the room. There was no other exit. He might be able to burst through some of the rotten wood on his own, but he was the only one in the group who could reliably swim. He looked at Urist and an idea formed in his mind. “This is really stupid.” He ran over to the Mankey and promptly retreated into his shell. “Throw me. Throw me as hard as you can at the door.”

Urist turned from his own search to look at the Squirtle. This was incredibly stupid. But... he didn't have the time or the desire to argue with a plan that might work. There was nothing else to do, so he hoisted the Squirtle up. He carried him close to the door and lifted him back before tossing him straight at the door. The Squirtle's body began to turn mid-flight just before he crashed into the door, punching a hole through it.

Urist was amazed that actually worked. “Come on! We gotta go!” Chelsea ran for the new doorway and hopped through it. Of course, she got stuck on her way out. The bag was too large to get through normally, so Urist had to force it through.

Dennis stood in front of Lyn. “Lyn, we have to go.” She continued staring upwards at the flames. They were mesmerizing, in a way. “Lyn, we have to go. Now!” Dennis nudged her until she snapped back into reality.

“R... Right.” The three remaining members forced themselves through the hole in the door before the group as a whole ran off the ship. Secure on the rocks and away from the fire, they turned back to watch it burn. The room they were in collapsed under the flames. Then the base of the mast burned away, causing it to crash down. Finally, the ship itself began to burn as cinders and ash that danced across the faint wind.

Steven turned around. “Let's leave.” Without so much as another word, the group left the cove.

((Wrote this one a bit lazy. Lots of chunky writing, imo.

Psyduck x3, Zubat x2, Dragonair x1.

OO: 12.5 pages
MSW: 16 pages))